


Snapshots pt 1

by PotatoQuinn



Series: Snapshots [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, artist!Clarke, cafe owner!Lexa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 04:25:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10756668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotatoQuinn/pseuds/PotatoQuinn
Summary: There, at the edge of the water surrounded by a paddling of ducks, is a blonde woman tossing bread crumbs at the birds. The lamps in the park (placed there for joggers like herself, the Council had advertised) emits a soft glow over the pale skin of the woman. It’s just enough for Lexa to see that she wears faded blue jeans and a flannel, the sleeves pushed up to her elbows. Her blonde hair is pulled half-way back, tied into a bunch of braids at the back. She holds the bag of bread in her right hand and tosses the crumbs with her left, still giggling at the ducks all vying for some of the treat.-or-Lexa sees Clarke feeding the ducks in the park, and it just grows from there.





	Snapshots pt 1

    The early morning is the perfect time to go jogging. No one else is out and about, and the sun has yet to rise. The only sounds Lexa Wilde hears is the local wildlife, the slight breeze ruffling the trees, and her sneakers hitting the pavement. And giggles. 

    Wait. Giggles?

    Probably some drunk girl on a bench. It  _ was  _ Sunday, now, and most residents of Polis City had spent the previous night partying. Well, most residents who didn’t have responsibilities or kids or morals. 

    Some ducks quack, and the girl giggles again. Then speaks to the ducks.

    “You like these? They’re whole grain. But don’t tell Raven I fed you her bread, she’d kill me.” The voice is a bit raspy, and goosebumps erupt on Lexa’s skin. It’s the air, moving against her sweaty skin, giving her chills…

    Or at least, that’s what she tells herself, even as her feet carries her farther into the park she had been passing by. She jogs up the path to the pond she knows lays at the end, nearly encircled by a small copse of trees. There, at the edge of the water surrounded by a paddling of ducks, is a blonde woman tossing bread crumbs at the birds. The lamps in the park (placed there for joggers like herself, the Council had advertised) emits a soft glow over the pale skin of the woman. It’s just enough for Lexa to see that she wears faded blue jeans and a flannel, the sleeves pushed up to her elbows. Her blonde hair is pulled half-way back, tied into a bunch of braids at the back. She holds the bag of bread in her right hand and tosses the crumbs with her left, still giggling at the ducks all vying for some of the treat. 

    “It’s calorie free.”

    It takes a moment for Lexa to realize the woman had spoken to her, and she looks at the blonde with wide eyes. “I’m sorry?”

    “The bread.” The blonde holds up the nearly empty bag, tilting her head with a raised brow. “It’s calorie free. Or else I wouldn’t be feeding it to the ducks at all.” 

     Right. Because feeding ducks a high calorie food is bad for them. Lexa raises her chin, blinking a bit. “Right. That’s good.” Could she be even more awkward?

     The blonde’s lips quirk up in a smirk, her eyes (they were blue, so so blue, and Lexa couldn’t help but stare into them) sparkling with amusement. “Yeah. I just thought you’d wanna know. Last time I fed the ducks, I got an hour long lecture from this kid with glasses and blond hair.” She goes back to emptying the bag, squatting down. “I wanted to avoid another lecture.”

     Lexa can’t help the lifting of the corner of her lips, visualizing this gorgeous woman standing there while she was lectured by her little brother. Because it  _ was  _ Aden, he had come home that day and spent a couple hours ranting about the locals harming the animals. He’s a passionate kid, protective of the natural landmarks and wildlife still in the city. “You’ll get no lecture from me. I got the same one last week from my brother.”

    She’s rewarded with a beaming smile and a hand thrust at her. “I’m Clarke Griffin.”

    Lexa takes the hand proffered to her, gripping it lightly. “Lexa Wilde.” Another smile tugged at her lips. Another benefit to early morning jogs; meeting pretty girls.

 

* * *

 

    The sun is scorching, threatening to turn Clarke’s pale skin as red as a tomato. Nonetheless, there she lays on her towel on the beach. Her two friends, Raven Reyes and Octavia Blake, stretched out on either side, with Monty, Jasper, Bellamy, and Murphy’s stuff all sitting nearby. The three women are tanning (or at least attempting to tan) while the men (read: boys) swam around in the lake. She’s on her stomach with her sketchpad in front of her, pencils piled in the sand to the side. The pad is new, just bought a week ago, and already it’s half full. A series of a certain profile in graphite, and a series of a specific pair of green eyes (done in coloured pencil, watercolor pencil, marker, pen, every medium she had that didn’t bleed through the paper) adorned the pages. She has the pad opened to a fresh page, and nothing marked the pale white canvas just yet. 

    She had opened the pad with the intentions of sketching the scene in front of her; her friends playing in the water while seagulls flew overhead, the couple of clouds floating near the horizon, the waves rolling gently onto the pale sand. There’s a breeze, just slight enough to ruffle her hair as she lays there, and it’s a perfect scene to draw. But she can’t get the other images out of her head. 

    The images from almost a week ago.

    The images of the woman in the park, in a pair of shorts and a form-fitting tank top with her brunette curls tied up to leave her slender neck exposed to the cooler air while she jogged along the paths laid out for just that reason….

    It takes her a few minutes to realize she has pencil to paper, sketching out a certain woman with a small smile on her lips and a raised brow. Curls spill out of a pony tail and over her shoulder, just enough to reveal that they’re there. Shadows from lamps not drawn frame a sharp jawline that makes Clarke bite the corner of her own lip as the pencil glides out the lines.

    “Griffin, what’s got you so focused?” Octavia is now sitting up and leaning over to rest on Clarke’s back, looking over her shoulder at the sketchpad. 

    She has two choices, here. She can close the pad and pretend she has no idea what her friend is talking about, she’s just enjoying the day. Or, she can just admit what has her so distracted, because it’s not focus that has her staring so intently at the sketch in front of her.

    She decides to go with the latter, knowing none of her friends will leave her alone until she tells them.

    “I saw her last Sunday morning when I was feeding the ducks,” She says, continuing to draw. She tries to leave it at that, because how is she supposed to explain that she developed a crush on a woman she’s only ever seen once?

    Apparently she doesn’t need to. Raven, in her typical Raven Reyes way, pulls the sketchpad away when Clarke stalls a line for a second too long. Her mechanic friend flips through the pages, holding it at an angle above Clarke so Octavia can see what’s inside. “Holy shit, Grif. You got a crush or something?”

    Clarke manages to snatch the pad back, closing it firmly with a frown on her lips and a blush on her cheeks. “No.” Denial seems the best way to go, right? “She makes for a good model, that’s all.” 

    She doesn’t even sound convincing to her own ears, so she’s not surprised when her friends laugh at her attempt to brush it off. “Right. You don’t have a crush on this obviously attractive woman, and-”

    “And that’s totally not her walking down the beach,” Raven interrupts Octavia, pointing to their right.

    There she is, Lexa Wilde, walking along the water’s edge with a woman at her side and a young boy, the one that had lectured Clarke all that time ago. Lexa is wearing a flowing skirt that wraps around her long legs as the breeze blows, and her hair is freely laying down her back. A white button-up is tied above her stomach, leaving toned tanned skin exposed in the sun. The woman with her has her arm thrown around her shoulders, an obvious grin on her lips. She wears a pair of blue shorts and a white tank-top. The boy is laughing, his arm hooked through Lexa’s. He wears long short and an open shirt, his glasses glaring in the harsh light.

    Clarke pretends her heart doesn’t sink at the sight of the trio, so easily laughing together.

    She can’t hide it when her shoulders droop, just enough to be noticeable to her two best friends. They say nothing, thankfully, but Clarke isn’t sure she prefers what happens next. 

    Raven gets up with a smirk on her lips and starts towards the trio with a sway to her hips that Clarke recognizes. It’s the one she uses to pick up girls when they go to the club on Saturday nights. It’s the one she uses to convince whoever she’s currently dating to do what she wants.

    It’s the one she used on Clarke, once upon a time, back before they became friends.

    Raven is talking to them, then she points at Clarke and Octavia and Clarke sees how Lexa lights up even more than she already was and wow. Lexa’s smile widens, and Clarke barely registers that she’s gotten up until she’s standing in front of the brunette with a goofy smile. “Hi.”

    Lexa smiles even wider, tilting her head just so, and Clarke melts a little. “Hi yourself.” She glances at the woman and boy with her, and the woman waves her off. Clarke raises a brow, still smiling like an idiot. Because she didn’t think she’d get to see this woman again, and now here they were, talking. “You want to get something cool to drink?” The brunette hooks her thumb over towards the kiosk that sells cold drinks, her green eyes never wavering from Clarke’s gaze.

    Clarke bites the corner of her lip again and nods, grabbing for her bathing suit cover that she had left on the towel. “Yeah.”

 

* * *

 

 

    Lexa loves this. 

    The smells of coffee and scones, the low chatter from the customers, the tinkle of the bell at the door as someone comes in for a treat. Low warm lights above the dark wood tables, the granite counter stretched at the back by the kitchen doors, the chime of the register as another purchase is made. 

    This is Lexa’s place, her pride and joy. And it just got better, with a tinkle of that bell above the door. A certain blonde walks in with a smile, flanked by her two friends. 

    “Clarke. What can I get you?” Lexa smiles wide, and she ignores the look of surprise from her friend-slash-employee Lincoln. She only gives the customers small polite smiles, he’s never seen her smile like this at anyone other than her close circle of friends and her family.

    She can’t help herself when she sees Clarke, though. 

    Especially today, apparently. Lexa notices a streak of purple paint on Clarke’s nose, and it’s so adorable, she has to actively focus on not reaching out to touch it to see if it’s still wet.

    “Cappuccino for me, please.” Clarke smiles back, her blue eyes lighting up. Of course she’s a cappuccino girl, the sweetness and chocolate fit her well. “For here,” she confirms before Lexa has the chance to ask.

    Lexa leaves Lincoln to get the other two women’s orders to focus on this one, because she wants to get it perfect. She pulls a shot of espresso into one of the cafè’s signature dark red cups and turns to set the cup on the counter in front of Clarke. She glances up, and has to force her gaze back to her task when twin oceans threaten to drown her. She adds steamed milk, just enough, then the micro-foam. She brings up the container of chocolate shavings that’s specifically shaved for this exact purpose. It has three different compartments for each type of chocolate: milk, dark, and white. She tilts her head in question and looks up at Clarke with a smile and a raised brow. 

    She almost misses the request for white chocolate when the blonde bites the corner of her lip.

    She chews on her own lip while she waits for Clarke’s verdict, and her heart soars when a smile lights up her current favourite pair of blue eyes. “This is delicious, Lex!”

    Her heart skips a beat at the nickname, and she internally scolds herself. Anya calls her Lex all the time, it’s not like it’s something special just Clarke calls her. 

    But it sounds really really nice coming from Clarke’s lips, and Lexa can’t help the dopey smile that stretches her lips again.

 

* * *

 

    Clarke loves this.

    The light that streams in from the big windows to cast a soft, sunny glow over the space. The open look of the studio, with enough space to spread out her things. The smell of freshly opened jars of paint, the stack of waiting empty canvases that sit on the back wall. The half-finished paintings that sit on the few easels scattered around.

    The windows are open, letting in the summer breeze and the sounds of birds chirping and cars driving by. The sheer white curtains flutter slightly, and Clarke smiles because she loves to sketch them floating in the breeze like that. She has many many pages of just the curtains, because she sketches them when she’s not working on other projects.

    This is Clarke’s place, her sanctuary. And it just got better, with the sound of a pair of feet making their way up the stairs that led into the studio. A certain brunette appears out of the stairwell with a smile she only shows Clarke, a plastic bag in her hand.

    “Lexa, what brings you out here?” Because the studio is technically in the remade loft of a barn that Clarke has repurposed as her home, on her parents’ property on the edge of the city. She’s in the city a lot, because that’s where her friends live, and she really only comes out here when she senses her friends getting tired of her crashing on their couches.

    Lexa smiles wider and shrugs, holding up the bag. “I brought food.”

    Clarke grins and reaches for the bag, taking it and placing it on a table nearby. Because she likes food, but she likes Lexa more. So she grabs for Lexa’s waist as soon as the food is safe on the table and pulls her close, burying her nose in her neck as she hugs her. “You didn’t have to bring food to visit me,” she mumbles, delighting in the feel of Lexa’s arms around her when she hugs her back. She feels a kiss on her head, and she grins and pulls back. 

    “I know. But I had leftovers from the cafe.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal, and it isn’t, but Clarke knows that she could have just as easily given the leftovers to her brother. Aden likes the pastries sold in the cafe too. 

    So Clarke goes to the bags and digs out a scone, biting into it with a moan that may or may not have been on purpose way dirtier than necessary. She smirks when she catches Lexa watching her closely with her green eyes blown out. 

    Then she turns away and finishes the treat, wiping the crumbs on the back of her shorts before going to her most current project. It’s the scene from the beach she had spent so much time staring at, with the waves and the sand and the sky and the seagulls and-

    Lexa is staring at the almost-finished-painting, mouth agape. Her fingers hover over the canvas, tracing over the figures on the beach. Three people, two women and a boy, walking along the water’s edge. The four boys in the water splashing around and wrestling and dunking each other under the surface. The three women laying out on the sand. It’s the exact scene from that day, and Clarke is very proud of it. Especially because she never paints herself, and she did here, and she did really good. 

    “Clarke,” Lexa starts, and Clarke bites her lip. She loves how the other woman says her name, always pronouncing the ‘C’ and ‘K’ with a sharp click. “This is gorgeous.”

    Clarke pulls Lexa to her and kisses her, because the painting may be gorgeous, but this woman was even more so.


End file.
